


Adjusting Perspective

by Derien



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-27
Updated: 2007-05-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 07:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derien/pseuds/Derien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byerly's reputation is in danger?  Also, weapons runners from Jackson's Whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this about three years ago and never was all that sure of myself with it, but on re-reading I've decided that it's clunky, and probably takes Ivan and Byerly someplace I don't really buy into, but I still kind of like it. Still, feedback would be most appreciated.
> 
> My original Notes: No more AU than any slash, but borrowing some artifacts from "A Deeper Season" and "What Passing Bells" universe. (At least I'm reasonably sure that's where I picked up the flower shop girl, although I gave her a name. But that's certainly where the androgenesis idea came from.) Miles is with Ekaterin, Gregor is with Laisa, Ivan's at loose ends.

He was just closing the last file, looking forward to getting home from work and having a quick shower before taking that cute flower-shop girl out to dinner when Ivan's comconsole chimed. His mother.

Without preamble she started in. "Ivan, I'm going to let you know before anyone else does. Your friend is in the hospital, he's fine, and you will not go there."

"Which friend?"

Alys merely glared at him. "Come see me before you do anything else."

"Which friend?"

"I mean it, Ivan. Come to my office."

He swallowed. Something was definitely not good, here. "Yes, mother." Keying off, he piled the rest of the flimsies on his desk into a messy stack and shoved them into a drawer, locked it, and pocketed the key. She didn't want to say who it was, she seemed convinced he would rush to the hospital even though the injury was apparently not life-threatening... Ivan was confused. He readily acknowledged that it didn't take much to confuse him - he was no brilliant mind like his cousin, Miles, or like Byerly... _"Oh,"_ he thought, _"By."_ Lady Alys was Byerly's contact to ImpSec, she might well be one of the first people who would find out if he were in the hospital. And the way she'd glared at Ivan - it was just the sort of glare she might give him if she knew that he and Byerly had... Ivan was not going to call it a Relationship by any means, and the imminent meeting with his mother made him quail at the term 'screwed like rabbits.' They'd 'had relations,' he decided.

He certainly hadn't meant to, the first time - waking up the morning after had been a complete surprise. The second time it had been, if possible, even more of a surprise because he really hadn't thought he'd ever do that again. The third time he'd decided he'd better start dealing with it, and soon it had become almost commonplace, although sex that good could never be called 'commonplace.' The sexual inventiveness must go along with the madness in the Vorrutyer genes - By's cousin Donna had been nearly as much fun, back before she was a he. The part which surprised Ivan was how well he liked Byerly once he'd gotten to know him better. He was sharp, both of wit and of tongue, and yet could be surprisingly kind in a million small ways, and didn't call Ivan 'Ivan-you-idiot' nearly as much as most people did.

As he had mused on all this he had found his way as though on autopilot from his office to the parking garage where he had left his ground car. He sighed deeply as he settled into the driver's seat. He was going to have to play it very cool for his mother. He tried to line up whatever plausible points of deniability he could find, reminding himself that he had to pretend ignorance and ask exactly who she might be talking about. With any luck it wouldn't be Byerly at all. He didn't count on it.

Fifteen minutes later he had passed through the multiple levels of security necessary to get to see the social director to the Emperor, and found himself before her desk, unconsciously adopting a military at-ease position as though he were preparing for a dressing down. He mentally cursed himself and plopped into a chair, hoping she hadn't noticed as she closed out her comconsole, and trying to widen his eyes in a hopefully innocently curious expression.

"So. What's up?"

His mother's eyes narrowed. "Don't make the mistake of thinking that Byerly is my only source of gossip. I hope that you are not underestimating the seriousness of this situation." Her tone made it clear that she was sure he was. She rarely had to actually say "Ivan-you-idiot."

"Mother..." He decided he'd better not try the "I'm not sure what you mean" plea - she was never the sort of person who would have patience with that at the best of times. "It's not as though I have that much of a reputation to maintain -"

"Ha!"

So much for playing it cool. "-I understand all about fitting in with Vorish expectations and all, but, honestly, nobody really expects me to ever make anything of myself at this point- "

"Don't remind me! I've exhausted every last eligible Vor female and you're down to dating shop girls. It's not your reputation I'm concerned about at this point, it's Byerly's."

Ivan blinked. She'd jumped far ahead of where he had expected her to be. "We've had this conversation. He and I. I thought... I had this idea that I could protect him, but he explained that his effectiveness as an information gatherer depended on people thinking that he was really a nobody among the Vor. That if people had the idea that he might spill something to someone who had the ear of the Emperor it would be unlikely that anyone would ever say anything in front of him ever again, no matter how drunk he might pretend to be. And that with my family connections people might think someone might listen to me. Not that they ever would." He ran down and regarded the babble he had just spewed with horror.

"Protect him?" His mother blinked. "It's his job."

"I know," he mumbled miserably. "It makes me sick worrying, sometimes. Couldn't he get some other job? I've tried to be careful, and so has he. We've continued seeing other people and tried to make it look like happenstance when we met up, and we don't meet up near as often as we would like. He likes his job and doesn't want to jeopardize it."

"Ivan...?" Lady Alys leaned forward, peering at him closely. "Well." She nodded minutely and sat back again, steepling her fingers, and regarded her son consideringly. "No matter what you might think, I do like Byerly. Yes, I see that surprises you. I've acted my part much more effectively than you have acted yours, I think."

Ivan's ears burned with his blush and he dropped his eyes again. Too late he realized he'd said far too much.

"It's not only his job at issue," she continued. "I don't want to see his life endangered, as I'm afraid it may be. You *will* stay away from him, at least for the moment. He's only in for overnight observation, it was just a slight concussion, he should be out tomorrow morning. But as to *your* reputation-" she stopped short, compressing her lips. "Go, now, child. I must consider. I'm sure you have a date or something." She brushed her long fingers in an elegant wave of dismissal, and Ivan leapt from his chair gratefully, and, with a little bob of his head, escaped.

He did not feel at all like going out, now, thinking of Byerly lying alone in a hospital bed. How had he let his mother distract him from asking what had happened? It crossed his mind to defy her, but he had also not managed to ask her exactly which hospital he was in. He'd have to call around. And if By's life could be endangered... No, he couldn't risk that. He really shouldn't go. It was far too late to cancel his date - the manners he'd been raised with forbade it at this point for anything short of a death in the family - so he called to say he would be late ("held up at the office" - as long as he didn't say which office it was true enough) and made his shower as quick as possible.

As it turned out chirpy Dolores-from-the-flower-shop seemed not in the least put out, and the vague, foreshortened version of events which he gave her seemed to make her think he was some sort of tragic hero involved in espionage, which worked out quite to his favor as she attempted to distract him and cheer him up. She was enthusiastic and energetic. However, in the morning she remained chirpy, far too much so. In short, she was not Byerly, he realized. He liked that fact that he and By tended to have the same energy level in the mornings - either unconscious or starting very slow.

Ivan sent Dolores on her way kindly, he hoped, but as quickly as he could manage. He had to go to work, anyway, it was the perfect excuse. Lately he usually scheduled dates with women on weeknights, so as to have weekends free in case By was available.

He only managed to wait until early afternoon before sending a message to By, trusting he would be home by this time. The response was terse - "Not a good idea right now. Hopefully soon."

* * *

After a week Ivan was itching with impatience and feeling just wrong, in some unaccountable way. He'd grown used to seeing By on a fairly regular basis without even realizing that was so at the time. He'd seen By enough for rumors to start? This was amazing to him; it hardly seemed possible. They'd been out - to dinner or plays - a few times, but hardly anything much. He really needed someone with information, someone who would talk to him, so he could know just how much damage had really been done, and his mother was right out. Cousin Miles was in the city at the moment. Much as he hated to - the dwarf would never let him live it down - he found himself calling at Vorkosigan House.

Married respectability had mellowed some of the hyperactiveness out of the little git - or maybe it was just old age catching up with him. Ivan was pretty sure he didn't want either happening to him. Still, Miles now had a calmness that made Ivan feel better for being in his presence as his cousin led the way to the sitting room.

"What seems to be the problem?" Miles asked, sounding so much like a doctor that Ivan nearly said, "My skin - it doesn't fit right."

Where to start? "I, uh, need some information."

"Yes...?" Miles chose an overstuffed brown leather chair near the fire.

"About..." Ivan looked around and decided to bring over a straight backed wooden chair so that he could sit fairly close and not raise his voice. "About what people are saying about me."

"Ah. Hm."

That did not sound good.

"Yeah. What are they saying about me and B..."

"You only just caught on that they were talking?"

"My mother told me."

Miles winced. "Ouch. Well. Popular opinion seems to be that all your previous womanizing was an attempt to cover up."

"That bad?"

"Some dissenters say it's a phase and that Byerly somehow seduced you and has you under his evil influence."

Somehow that didn't make Ivan feel any better. "Look. How many particular instances are there that people have actually seen something? Is this a fixable situation?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"Of course! It's ruining Byerly's job."

"Ah."

"And I'd like my reputation back."

"Well, that you're not going to get, at least not right away. Not to say that your reputation was anything much to speak of. People aren't really all that surprised by this. Some are scandalized by the gender, but the general consensus seems to be that you were always oversexed and you'll just, erm, well, there's no way to put a genteel spin on it - that you've only proven that you'll jump on anyone who holds still too long. I'll bet you even money that if you dump Byerly there'll be other men after you from now on."

He pulled a face. This was not a train of thought he wanted to pursue right now. He'd barely managed to get used to the idea of there being one male who he could do 'that sort of thing' with. "What have people seen?"

"There was that incident at Olivia's party last month."

"Oh yeah. My fault. He told me we shouldn't. Damn. That really blew it, didn't it?"

"So to speak!" Miles was laughing at him, the little twit. They'd actually only been caught necking, but rumor might have made the story a little more spicy.

"Any other times?"

"Mostly you've just been seen out together. Probably only four or five times. You might be able to spin it as a friendship that got a little out of hand that one time, if you really work on it and live a wholesome life. And can resist seeing other men."

"Not a problem."

"You're sure?"

"Not. A. Problem."

Miles cocked his head to one side. "Interesting."

"What?"

"That you're so sure. Never mind, though. You're really going to stop seeing him, even so?"

Ivan nodded, but then felt guilty for lying to Miles about this and his up and down head bob changed to a side to side motion. "No. I don't want to. But we can be more careful. After all, only maybe six instances? That's actually a pretty good success rate. I mean, five months, or really it's only been often for the last four months, so that's twelve weeks -"

"Sixteen."

"-sixteen, right, at least twice a week -"

"*Twice* a week??"

"-is, um - carry the one - is thirty-two, right? So, five or six out of thirty-two is... Well, make it on average three times -"

"You've been having sex with *Byerly* three times a *week*? And then your other dates?"

"We're not really having sex all the time. Although once we barely got out of bed for two days," Ivan was blushing furiously, but he couldn't help smiling just a little at that memory, "But mostly we're just... talking. And stuff. And really the other dates have been pretty far between, I've only had about three that went anywhere in the last four months. I've lost my train of thought, now. Six fives in thirty, so maybe we've been noticed one in five times? That's two in ten times, that's close to an eighty percent success rate, right? And I'll bet the only times we've been caught is when we went someplace in public together, so if we just don't go out in public we'll be all set."

"You're going to confine yourselves to your homes? That doesn't sound like a recipe for a successful relationship."

"Relationship?"

"Well, what do you call it?"

"Friendship?"

"So you have a friend who's just a convenient outstanding shag?"

"I suppose."

"And you've pretty much stopped seeing women?"

"I, er, suppose I haven't been putting the effort in..."

"Not much point when you've got such an outstanding shag so convenient, is there?"

"Um."

Miles stared at him.

"I could try harder. You said you thought the damage could be fixed."

"If you got yourself married, maybe! How are you going to do that when every Vor daughter near your age has been married off and you've already run through most of the eligible daughters of the richer merchant and military families, and you can't even be bothered to put the effort in to find a date with a shop girl on a regular basis?"

"You didn't say anything about getting married! You said 'live a wholesome life,' I don't see why I should have to-"

"If you're going to keep seeing him you're GOING to get caught again, it's only a matter of time. A matter of wanting to see the outside world together, forgetting yourself for a moment - it will happen. No, the way I see it you might as well not bother; if you're going to keep on you might as well admit you're in love and -"

"In love?"

"Well, yes. I DO think that's what all the evidence points to, at this time."

"You think I am?"

"You're considering basically killing off most of your social life in order to spend time with him. Now, I think that'll only end with you both hating each other, eventually, and throwing away something which could be really good. My point, if you would let me get to it and not have to keep going back over the same ground, is that most people aren't really upset by this..." he waved his hand, "Liaison. If you don't want to call it a relationship. Vorrutyers are crazy anyway, and maybe there's a little crazy in the Vorpatrils, too, but as the old guard dies off and more of the up-and-coming Counts are exposed to the outside galactic cultures there's less and less worry about how you run your personal life. You're not far from the throne, but that'll just make the conservatives back Gregor more firmly, I don't think there's much to worry about there. Always the chance of random violence, and that should not be taken too lightly."

"But... my mother. My Vorish duty to father an heir to my family and all that..."

"You don't keep up on science news much, do you? There's a new thing called androgenesis. Let's two guys have kids. They recently developed it on Beta and Jackson's Whole almost simultaneously - must be one of those ideas who's time has come. You could have kids with Byerly if you want."

"Byerly, raise kids? *Me* raise kids??"

"It's your Vorish duty, as you mentioned. That doesn't mean that you have to start in right away, but the option is there for when you're ready."

Ivan was confused, overwhelmed. His heart and stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops, and he shook his head as if to clear if of cobwebs. "You're not suggesting I ... marry Byerly?"

"I'm not sure if it's legally possible at the moment, but with androgenesis available there may be a legal argument for the possibility. After all, if marriage is for reproduction and there's no actual barrier to reproducing... It might eventually be an option."

"How does that help with his job, though? I'm ruining his ability to be an intelligence gatherer."

"It doesn't help with that aspect at all, unfortunately. He'd have to find another job."

"He enjoys it, though." Ivan hated it and worried all the time, but Byerly seemed to thrive on information gathering.

"He's a smart enough man, it shouldn't be impossible for us to find somewhere else in the system to place him. Something he could do that wouldn't be entirely boring, but might be a little safer. I think you'd prefer that, wouldn't you?"

Miles always had been able to see right through Ivan. "Yes," Ivan admitted, and almost smiled, "I would. I've gotten to hate his job after the last few fiascoes. But I know he's not like me - I like boredom. He needs some excitement."

"Think on it. Run it by him. He might change his mind after a few more close calls, especially if you were there to sweeten the deal. He might just need the right person to settle down with. And I think somewhere in you there's the makings of a settling-down type of person, if your love for boredom is any indication."

Ivan stood, shaking his head, but smiling. "You're insane. I can't believe this plan. It will never work." But maybe... he was grinning, now. "Thanks, Coz." He was whistling as he took his leave. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day when Ivan opened his comconsole he was delighted to see a message from Byerly. “The Blue Duck, 1600 hrs. Let's hide out for a long weekend. I'll tell all. Love, Byerly.”

Love? Byerly had never closed a message to him with 'love,' that he could recall. Or at least not since they'd been doing ... *things* together. Before that By's cynical humor might have lead him to say something similar, just to be annoying. It was almost sneakily suspicious serendipity. Had Miles had been in contact with By? Did he want this? His stomach was upset. Or giddy? He could *not* be in love - that was ridiculous. What was Miles thinking?

He put in his request for a day off to lengthen his weekend and endured an eye roll from the scheduling officer.

"Hot date?"

"No. No. A friend has some things he needs help with."

"Couldn't you have given me a bit more notice?"

"I only just found out."

"Some friend. Okay, okay, but I don't know what we'll do if everyone starts behaving like you."

All day his work suffered. He would focus himself and be happily inputting data, and then find himself staring off into space with no idea how long he'd been like that. He tried to force himself to work until half past three, but at quarter past he realized there was no point, he was far too distracted. He locked it all up, stopped in the rest room on his way out to splash water on his face, and, leaving his ground car in the garage, swung off down the street with a spring in his step. The Blue Duck was a little cafe with only two tables on the sidewalk, and he was ridiculously early. He got a coffee and a small pastry which he proceeded to pulverize between his fingers as he waited, watching the people go past and scanning for By. Ivan could not deny his impatience, but he told himself sternly it was simply because he wanted to see his friend whole and walking around, definitely out of the hospital and well.

After fifteen minutes or so two men appeared out of the crowd and glanced at each other before stopping, the tall one next to his chair, blotting out the sun, and the other right in front of Ivan, blocking his view of the crowd. Ivan looked up, vaguely perplexed, and realized that the blocker of the view - a man shaped like a solid cube and dressed in black, topped by dark glasses and an insincere smile - was obviously intending to talk with him.

“Lord Ivan Vorpatril?”

“May I help you?”

“We've come to escort you to Lord Byerly Vorrutyer.”

The man was not a Vor, yet he reeked of arrogance - so not Barrayaran. Jacksonian, probably, by his accent. _I've spent too much time with Miles; it's making me paranoid,_ he thought, but couldn't ignore the feeling that something bad was in the offing. This looked way too much like a potential kidnapping. _Run with it, at least I'll find out what By's gotten himself into._ He widened his eyes and did his best to appear just as slow-witted as everyone thought him to be. "Lord Vorrutyer, yes. I did hope to meet him here. But I was also meeting my cousin. I really can't leave, he's on his way." _I'm a dullard,_ he willed the other man to believe, _I could never deceive a sharp one like you._

A moment's silence, and Cubic's smile had disappeared as though it had never been, then: "We'll have you right back. He won't even notice."

 _I'm a complete idiot, I'm being complicit in my own kidnapping,_ he thought, but said, "I could just leave him a quick note with the counter boy, let him know I've been called away. Reschedule for another day. That way he won't worry." _This will work out much better for you, it will take longer before anyone notices I'm missing. Believe it, believe it._

After another short silence the man nodded. "Wouldn't want him to worry."

Ivan took out his wallet, found a credit chit _perfectly normal to offer a tip when asking that a message be passed on, perfectly normal_ and a business card. He laid the card on the table and wrote in large, block letters so that Cubic would be able to see his message easily: "Miles - Had to leave, we'll find another time. -Ivan" As he rose to enter the small shop the Cubic one was right behind him, and Ivan thought hard about getting his wording just right.

The counter boy, who had been washing coffee urns, quickly dried his hands. "Help you, Sir?"

"I'd like to leave a message for someone. I hope you can make sure it's delivered directly into his hand." He pressed the card, with the bill folded under it into the boy's hand.

"Yes, Sir." The boy nodded. "What's he look like?"

"Short guy," Ivan held up a hand slightly below shoulder height to indicate, and added, "Vorkosigan is his name."

"I'll see to it, Sir."

Ivan gave the Cube his most gullible smile. "Lead on."

A good quality but bland rental ground car awaited them at the curb not far away, the driver of the same stamp as the other two. Cubic opened the backseat door for him and Tall entered on the traffic side of the car so that they had the window seats. Ivan observed the polarized windows with increasingly plummeting spirits. Really a very bad sign.

"You have the advantage of me. Are you friends of Lord Vorrutyer?"

"Forgive our manners." The tall one spoke for the first time. "Our employer is an independent contractor temporarily engaging Lord Vorrutyer's services. He sent us to drive you as a convenience."

Ivan couldn't imagine any Barrayaran would use such a phrase as 'independent contractor' for anyone besides manual laborers.

They crawled through the crowded streets. Ivan sat with his hands folded in his lap and tried to surreptitiously fret his hands around until he could 'accidentally' bump his wristcom and hopefully send a signal which could be followed. He would somehow need to actually hit two buttons at the same time and then a third several times, and he had very little chance of getting the sequence right without looking at the display while he was doing it. Besides which it would give cheery little beeps of varying sorts to let him know that commands had been entered, which would give him away... all in all it seemed like a pretty unlikely plan at the moment. Maybe later, when they weren't watching him so closely.

Very soon they were in a much less-frequented warehouse area, and a garage door opened in the side of one of the buildings. No chance for escape here, then, not that he wanted to escape until he found out what they had done with Byerly. _And what if they don't even have him? What if I just walked blithely into my own kidnapping based entirely on a message that didn't even sound like him, just because it had his code on it?"_ Try not to think about it.

Inside the gloomy, echoing space they parked next to a stack of wooden cases on a pallet and climbed out. The warehouse was not close to full, but there were a good many of these pallets high stacked and wrapped in plastic. Above, offices were built out as a second half floor, grimy yellow windows looking down into the warehouse area. The group climbed a metal staircase so rickety it didn't seem possible that it would actually hold the four of them at once, making a rattling that would have killed all but the hardiest conversation, if there had been one to kill. At the top of the stair the office door, flaking multiple layers of paint, was opened by Cubic, and as Ivan entered he peered past the man's burly shoulder, eager to see if By really was here.

Indeed he was. Ivan had no trouble identifying his slender back instantly, facing away from the door in a plain, straight-backed wooden chair in front of a desk, on the business side of which stood another man, stirring a cup. The set of his shoulders signaled exhaustion to Ivan. He turned his head, rather disinterestedly, to see who was entering, and Ivan was nearly sure that his face went a little paler when he saw Ivan among them. "What are you doing here?"

"I got your message," Ivan volunteered, trying, against all odds, to emulate a bit of cheerful brainlessness.

"I didn't send a message." Byerly looked immediately toward the man behind the desk.

"I took the liberty," the man with the cup confirmed. "Coffee, Lord Vorpatril? Martial, could you bring us a chair?" The tall escort was apparently Martial, as he lifted a chair from another desk and placed it next to Byerly's.

"Thank you," Ivan said to Martial with a nod before responding, “Yes, I'll take coffee.”

"How?"

"Cream, no sugar."

As he fixed the coffee he continued, "You may call me Saulotte, Lord Vorpatril. Or Dik - I would be comfortable with the familiarity.”

Ivan opened his mouth and nearly said, 'a pleasure,' as he had been raised, but managed to change it to, “At your service, Sir.” He supposed that would be the actual case, anyway. “Would it be Mr. Saulotte?”

“That will do fine. Considering the circumstances I understand your reserve. I do want you to understand that I'm a business man - no offense was meant by my bringing you here, I simply have need of your presence.”

“He's of no use to you as a hostage, Saulotte. He's a nobody among the Vor.” Byerly was still white - with rage, Ivan judged.

“He is not a nobody to you, if my information is correct. And I think by your reaction it is. And you are not a nobody to him or he would not have jumped as he did to answer the message I sent under your code. Martial, was Lord Vorpatril early to his rendezvous?”

“At least twenty minutes, Sir. He'd obviously been there a few minutes when we arrived.”

“I think I did not guess wrongly. You've been a little overwrought at your boyfriend's disappearance over the past few days, have you not, Lord Vorpatril?”

“He's not - we're not -”

“Oh, that's right. I understand that one doesn't like to talk about these things on Barrayar. Uncivilized place. There's really no need to be bothered by it among us. We really care nothing about your relationship besides the good it does us. Having you here as our guest will serve as leverage to ensure that Lord Vorrutyer keeps our interests in mind in some ongoing negotiations that he is undertaking for us.”

“This is really not necessary. If you'll let him go you'll have my word that I'll do my best -”

“Unfortunately not possible at this point. Although I don't think that Lord Vorpatril would go to the authorities while he knew we had you, the negotiations which I wish you to attend to will require you to have some physical freedom. I would feel better if Lord Vorpatril stayed with me for the moment. I'm sure that when our business is transacted, as long as everything has concluded satisfactorily and we are on our way off-planet, we will be able to go our separate ways."

"It's not as though they won't notice Ivan's missing, though. They'll be searching for him."

"Not for at least three days if my understanding of psychology is correct. You did take a day off from work, didn't you?" He looked expectantly at Ivan.

"Yes."

"How did you manage that?" Byerly directed this to Saulotte.

"Such are the privileges of your class," Saulotte said to Ivan before turning his attention to Byerly. "You asked him to, in the message you sent. How could he refuse? He hasn't seen you in so long."

Ivan was stung at the implication that he only got days off on short notice because he was Vor, but more, wanted to distract attention from the implication - no, fact - that he had jumped at an invitation he had thought was from Byerly, who now spared a moment from glaring at Saulotte to glance at Ivan with an expression that Ivan couldn't read. "It's not as though my job is critical. I just input data, and there's nothing important happening right now."

"Ah." Saulotte nodded and smiled. "Certainly. Regardless, we must be getting on with our work. We have only a few days. Lord Vorrutyer must find us another buyer for our merchandise."

"I just don't know that I can! There really aren't that many Counts who are willing to risk full-out armed rebellion against the Emperor, these days. You may have mortally offended the only one!"

"But it *is* your job to know who the malcontents are. Perhaps you can find a few buyers, unload a little here and a little there. You have two days in which to try, Lord Vorrutyer, while I entertain Lord Vorpatril. I'm sorry for making it a bit short, but we really will need to have a little time to reload our merchandise if you fail. I very much do not want you to fail. At this point I'm not even sure I can recoup expenses for the trouble of bringing all this merchandise here, but one likes to at least minimize losses."

"Can I ask a stupid question?" Ivan interrupted, just wanting to keep Saulotte talking. "Why *did* you even bring whatever it is all this way? From Jackson's Whole?"

"Not so stupid a question. You may be a little smarter than you look." Saulotte smiled on him. "Although we do operate with Jackson's Whole as our home base we're what you might call traveling salesmen. We not only sell, we buy and trade. Very little of what we have, now, was carried all the way from Jackson's Whole. And when we set out I had no intention of coming this far. We've had a series of setbacks, and I gambled that possibly a little further out we could command a better price. You see how this is, in business."

"So you knew it might fall through," said Byerly. "Why throw good efforts after bad? Why not just cut your losses and go?"

"Severe penalties are exacted for returning with losses. Quite severe. Just as I have your dear Ivan here to exact your penalties upon, so I have people at home who put up the initial capital for this venture, and they have a hostage to me. Or, if they're feeling kind, they may only take their pound of flesh from my own hide. So you'll understand that I mean it when I say this is merely business. Dolin, the shock collar. And Martial, if you could set up the two-way for Lord Vorrutyer. We'll monitor you, Lord Vorrutyer, to ensure that you don't do anything you shouldn't, and you'll have an earpiece through which to hear Lord Vorpatril."

It was Byerly who leapt from his chair, first, flinging the coffee cup at Saulotte's face and continuing his motion up and around to nail the surprised Martial with a fist directly to the point of his jaw. Ivan, a half-second behind, did not catch Dolin, the cubical one of the pair, quite as unprepared. Their engagement was short lived, however, and it was wasted effort as a stunner blast caught them both with the sickening jolt that Ivan was all too familiar with, and everything went black.

When Ivan faded back to reality he was sprawled on the floor, the collar was already around his neck. His opponent had apparently been dragged away, and was now just sitting up against the wall, shaking his head free of cobwebs. It seemed that the origin of the stunner blast had been the chauffeur, who had been sitting quietly in the corner.

Byerly had been replaced in his chair and tied to it, Saulotte over him, half-sitting against the front of the desk with something in his hand, his expression looking sincerely sorrowful and confused.

"Why would you be so silly? You had to know there was no chance with that attempt."

"'Sa Vor thing," Byerly mumbled. "Go down with honor and glory. No collars."

"Why not be a little less glorious and perhaps live through this? Now, I just have to test the collar. This is the lowest setting - the highest would cause you to pass out, which is more than I want right now. Remember, Lord Vorpatril, you will experience the full power if you try to get the collar off."

 _Of course,_ Ivan thought, just before the shock hit him like a blow to the stomach, folding his whole body around itself into a fetal position and tearing an undignified grunt from him as the air left him. Saulotte didn't let up right away, but held him there for a few moments, every muscle in his abdomen contracting at once. When they finally released he sucked air in a huge gasp and then then lay, limply, unable to do anything besides be grateful he could breath and hadn't lost control of his bladder.

Byerly had his head down, eyes lowered, when Ivan could look again, and his voice was low and flat. “I'm going to do my best. Don't hurt him. You have my word.”

"You know, I believe you. I never really doubted your word, of course, but I need to make sure. The collar is really the most humane way of doing these things. The effects won't be damaging, long term, not even as much as the old fashioned livestock control shock collars, as this new type uses sonics that affect only the nerves. Possibly the loss of a few brain cells - much better than disfiguring your boy with scars, I wouldn't want to do that. Here, have a little synergine. It's time for you go to out to a party and have a good time."

Saulotte shot the hypo into Byerly's arm himself, stuck a small patch behind his ear ("So you can hear every noise from your boyfriend.") and a decorative button on his lapel with camera and mic and tested them against his own handset and headphones. He flatly ignored Ivan, who pushed himself to a sitting position and rubbed the dirt - stuck with saliva - off his face. Something nagged at his mind as he did that, but he was too blurry to place exactly what was odd. Dolin was on his feet, now, though his nose was bloodied and he was still looking woozy, and Martial was slumped in a chair looking almost worse, his face starting to swell. Ivan was proud that at least Byerly had done some damage, though the chauffeur still held the stunner, the other two had theirs out, now, as well, and Saulotte held the remote. Byerly's eyes, as Saulotte untied him, continually returned to Ivan, and he looked back as the chauffeur escorted him out. Ivan really didn't feel up to trying again, at the moment. He would have to trust that Byerly could come up with something. Some way of contacting ImpSec that wouldn't get Ivan shocked again would be his preference.

Dolin fetched a cold pack for Martial's face and they discussed the swelling and what they should do with him.

"Lord Vorpatril, you will need to be our native guide while Lord Vorrutyer is out. How can we get medical attention for my man, here?" Saulotte asked.

Ivan shrugged. "Dump him off at any hospital. He can't talk, they won't recognize his accent."

"They may ask him to sign forms and indicate who insures him."

"They won't turn away someone who's injured. There will be some forms. Just have him make an X. They'll think he's illiterate and won't ask him to write anything."

"Illiterate? Who would believe that?"

"There are plenty of illiterate hillmen who come to town and get into fights. If you get some rags from a second-hand shop - clothes that look as though they've been worked in - you should have no problem."

Saulotte nodded. "A very nice system. Easy to exploit." He called the chauffeur to impart this idea, and they made Martial as comfortable as possible on a cot in the corner with what pain killers they had on hand. In Ivan's not so expert opinion the man probably had a broken jaw.

Saulotte monitored Byerly's progress with his handset, occasionally commenting on things he amusing or making notes. After a while the chauffeur returned with take-away boxes, clothes and an armload of blankets - he had to make several trips up the stairs, but no-one offered to help him - and everyone ate, Martial sitting up on his cot and sipping soup carefully. They put Ivan at the other desk by himself and ignored him and each other, Saulotte watching Byerly's surroundings and the others amusing themselves with their own handsets - Dolin nodding his head in time, the chauffeur probably reading, Ivan judged, by his stillness. After dinner the chauffeur left again, to drop Martial, now dressed in appropriate work clothes, near a hospital, and returned after only fifteen minutes or so, to settle back down with his handset, again. Ivan thought that being kidnapped and tortured was nowhere near as exciting as the holovids made it out to be - it was turning out to be quite a lot of dull waiting, for him.

Dull waiting with a lot of stressful wondering about what this was going to do to Byerly's career. Would arranging an arms sale be considered fomenting rebellion? In the eyes of the law, probably. He was doing it for Ivan's sake. Would that be accepted as a defense? Probably not. Really they both had a duty to lay down their lives for the Imperium. This behavior was insane. And Byerly was doing this for Ivan.

The little office had all the amenities - a small refrigerator, stove and sink hidden in the corner, and a tiny lavatory. When the food and rest had recovered him enough to think about walking that far they let him use the lav by himself, although both Dolin and the chauffeur lowered their handsets and put their hands to their stunners, which they had sitting out, convenient, as he walked by. It was while he was washing his hands in the lav that he finally realized what had been nagging at him. His wristcom was gone. They must have removed it while he was out after the stunner blast. He rubbed both wrists with the soap and water, thinking about wrists - mostly Byerly's, tied to the chair. So where was his wristcom, then? In someone's pocket? Flushed down the lav?

As he walked back to his chair at the desk on the far side of the room he considered whose pocket it might likely be in. Either the chauffeur's or Saulotte's, because the other two had been out of the fight at the time. He would bet on Saulotte's pocket, because he guessed that the man would like to have as much control as possible.

He was trying to think of a plan or find a way to surprise them, or do anything proactive, but the boredom caught up with him and he was dozing off, his head on the desk, when pain ripped through him, convulsed him, tossed him to the floor.

"Oh, sorry," said Saulotte, as Ivan gasped and shuddered. "I thought he was speaking in code. You should see his reaction to hearing you, though. You would be flattered."

"Sure. My lip is bleeding. Can I get a towel?"

"Go right ahead." Saulotte waved vaguely, his attention back on the screen.


	3. Chapter 3

He splashed water on his face to get the blood off and revive himself, wet a paper towel and scrubbed at his face, daubing at the lip carefully. He certainly couldn't keep allowing them to use him this way against Byerly. Yeah, this getting shocked business was painful as hell, but that wasn't what really annoyed him. The pisser was that it so effectively blocked him from getting anything done. And then there was the possibility that he would be a true drooling idiot by the time this all was over. Yes, that was a concern. Would Byerly like him as well with half a brain? _Stop measuring things in terms of Byerly!_ Byerly was risking too much for him. But Ivan's duty to the Imperium took precidence over his brain cells. Still, what could he effectively manage to *do* in this situation? A suicidal run against Saulotte, hoping that the momentum of his unconscious body would carry his goal through? Likely the muscle spasms from the ensuing shock would ensure that would go nowhere, and when he woke up he would be tied hand and foot. He paced the bathroom, climbed up on the toilet seat to inspect the high window - painted shut. He hopped down. He could kill himself. Then they couldn't use him against Byerly. He could hit himself on the head with the toilet seat until he lost consciousness and hope that he drowned in the bowl. Of course they could pretend he was still alive until Byerly got back.

No they couldn't. There was a mic on this collar, there almost had to be. Or on him, somewhere, because Byerly had heard him getting shocked - that was Saulotte's immediate hold on By. Maybe he could be talking to By right now! The thought was heartening. By wouldn't be able to speak back, but still, Ivan could encourage him or something... What he should do was remind him that Ivan Vorpatril's life wasn't important. Or, no, there didn't have to be a mic on him - it could just as well be on the handset Saulotte used. As long as they were in the same room, Ivan probably made plenty of noise when he was shocked, especially that last time with the falling and flopping around. Damn. Still, he'd outlined the fact that his own death probably wouldn't help the situation much. Unless it drove Byerly around the bend and he subsequently killed Saulotte and his minions with his bare hands. Might as well stay alive for now and see if something a bit less drastic would present itself.

He wandered back into the office trying to look as limp and worn out as he could and slumped back down at his desk, putting his head on his folded arms.

The door was opening. Ivan raised his head, blinking, realized he was trailing a string of saliva and wiped at it in embarrassment. He had dozed off after all, and Byerly, looking exhausted, was being escorted back in by the chauffeur.

"Off to bed with you two," Saulotte ordered, all too cheerily, Ivan thought. Things must have gone well. "We're working merchants with much to do in the morning! No rest for the wicked and all that. You'll have our guest room back there all to yourselves. Dolin, hup hup. Guard duty. My turn to nap."

Ivan stood, stretched the kinks out of his neck, and staggered toward the door Saulotte had indicated and which Byerly was entering. It was a master office, no less shabby than the outer office and smaller. The blankets which the chauffeur had brought in earlier had been dumped in a pile in the small space between the chair in front of the desk and the door. Ivan shut the door behind him and he and Byerly moved together as though pulled by a gravity. They leaned on each other for a few moments, too tired to do more than draw strength from each other's presence, and then they forced themselves to part and, by some telepathy, each took a side of the desk and shoved it back against the wall to make space for the bedclothes to be spread out. Then they set to work making their bed, murmuring suggestions to each other as to how to arrange the blankets as cover or mattress. "The puffiest one on the bottom for padding." ... "These two on top?" ... "Will we be warm enough?" "Should do. We'll keep our clothes on." They both glanced at the door at that, then Ivan got up to turn the lights out.

His hand on the light switch he looked at Byerly, who was removing his shoes and belt, and he smiled a little at how normal this felt. It was completely abnormal. They were making a camp bed on an office floor. They were kidnappees. The rightness was because they were together, and he suddenly felt like he was a kid again, on a camping trip. Yes there were deadly serious people in the next room, but he was going to snatch this moment with both hands. After all, they could die tomorrow. He toed his boots off and burrowed in after By, and they rolled together and huddled.

"Are you okay? When I heard..."

"I'm fine. Tired, but happy to see you."

Their words tumbled out over each other in an almost giddy intensity.

"Did you think there was any way I would not come back for you?" Byerly demanded, with a smile in his voice and a quirk at the corner of his mouth. Ivan could barely see his face in the dark, but enough to land a kiss at the corner of his mouth, and then one on an eyebrow.

"No. I didn't think that for a minute. I knew you would." He laid a hand along the side of Byerly's face and said more seriously, "You shouldn't have, though. You should have just gone straight to someone, anyone, and had this place surrounded and them taken."

"No. I couldn't."

"But your job -"

"Screw my job."

"It could be worse than just your job, though. This could look really bad, trying to sell weapons. Charges of treason would mean..." He couldn't say it. He didn't even want to think it.

Byerly smoothed the short hair at the back of Ivan's head, kneaded the back of his neck above the collar. "Don't worry. I'll deal with that. I have a plan," his voice lowered to a comforting, barely audible, murmur. "Besides, I've gathered some good information tonight about certain people. This could be very useful stuff, and I'd never have had the chance to get it, otherwise."

"You're insane," Ivan muttered back, with a little hope returning. He wasn't sure it would work as defense against a treason charge, but it was worth a try.

"You love me that way."

"Yes -" Ivan's voice caught in his throat. What was he saying? Was he really saying he loved Byerly? "I love that about you."

"And I love that you didn't lose faith in me." Byerly kissed him seriously, then, with his tongue doing it's interesting things and his body pressing all against Ivan's, moving, surging, intently, and Ivan's body was rising to meet it, even though he was so tired. Still, he knew he couldn't carry anything through, and the possibility that someone in the next room was listening in on them - most probably - served well to quench his interest. When they broke to breath Byerly rested his forehead against Ivan's. "My cousin thinks I'm falling in love with you."

"You talk to *Dono* about me??" Ivan yelped, pulling back.

"Dono likes you." Byerly grinned. "Says you're a big, sweet, lug, faithful as a dog - I guess that means in other ways besides sexually, since dogs are not known for being able to stay away from bitches in heat."

"I could stay away from anyone you wanted me to," Ivan sputtered out, before he could stop himself. It seemed like such an unfair accusation, when he'd barely had sex with anybody, lately. Aside from Dolores, last week, but that hardly counted. He barely remembered it compared to the last time with Byerly and the emptiness of the days without him.

"Any particular one? So long as I don't ask you to stay away from everyone else? That's okay, though. I don't ask you to. We're not married."

"Have you ever thought about that, By?"

"Not being married? I thank my luck every day."

"Yeah? You never think that maybe it might be nice to have kids?"

"I guess I can't say it's never crossed my mind, but I can't see how it could happen. I'm not the marrying type."

"No-one would say I was, either. And I've always agreed with them on that. It seems to me that if you want to stay married for any length of time you really have to both be quite interesting to each other. Usually the women I've dated have gotten bored with me, or me with them, or I got distracted by someone new I met."

"I can't imagine why they'd get bored with you. Maybe you don't talk with them like you do with me."

Ivan couldn't speak, his chest felt tight with a proud pleasure that Byerly would say such a thing. "I'm dull. I'm not all sparkling wit. Like you. I run out of things to say to them." The last sentence sighed out as he wondered how he was going to get back around to saying what he'd thought he might be about to say. Did he want to say it? Might as well take the bull by the horns. "But, uh, what about it? Do you think I'd be someone you might marry? Hypothetically?"

Byerly chuckled. "Yeah, I think you'd make a great husband. Hypothetically."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ivan paused, not sure quite what to say. "My cousin thinks... the same your cousin does."

Byerly grinned broadly, and mocked him; "You talk to *Miles* about me?"

Ivan smiled. "Yeah. "Miles likes you. Not like Dono likes me, I think. I hope. And he'll help you with the... you know." Ivan mouthed 'treason charges' at Byerly.

Byerly's smile dropped. "Yes, I saw him this evening, you know, and he said hello. Asked when he might expect to catch up with you, seeing as he missed you, yesterday."

"Missed me?" Ivan remembered the note he had written. It had been delivered after all! _Bless that coffee shop boy._ "Oh, that's right. It seems so long ago."

"I told him I was sure it would be soon." Byerly gave him another peck on the lips, and then a soft one below his ear with a little flick of his tongue. "But we need to sleep, now," he whispered. "Damn-I'm-tired." He dropped back and smiled up at Ivan for a moment before closing his eyes. Ivan realized he could see Byerly's face more clearly than he had a few minutes before, and rolled his head to see that the light coming from the window was brighter. Fine, almost morning, then. He was still going to catch a few winks. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gone to sleep as the sun was rising, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

* * *

“Wake up, lovebirds! Breakfast has arrived!”

Oh god, Saulotte was a morning person. Ivan was afraid he might lose control and strangle the man, shock collar or no.

“Ivan?” Byerly was pushing himself upright and gazing at him with a look that was an odd mixture of... something. Part of it seemed to be distress. “I have to tell you something.”

“Mm?”

“That collar is a really ugly piece of work and it disgusts me. But... I've got to admit," - he traced a finger around the corner of Ivan's jaw - "it looks rather fetching on you. If we get married can I get you a better looking one?”

“Whatever you want,” Ivan murmured with half-lidded eyes - Byerly could do that trick much more effectively, but Ivan thought it only fitting to play it back at him once in a while.

“I *like* that about you. Always willing to try something new.” Byerly descended on his mouth ravenously and they delighted for a few moments before ruefully pulling back. “We should get that breakfast before it's all gone. I'm sure they won't hesitate to eat our shares.”

There wasn't much left, and it was greasy and almost cold, but there was hot coffee and plenty of pastries. Ivan and Byerly sat together at the desk on their side of the room and somehow in the morning light everything looked much better. The worn floor, beaten walls and furnishings, looked picturesque, and their kidnappers seemed almost chummy. Still sitting on the other side of the room, but Saulotte was in a very good mood.

"Lord Vorrutyer, I'm impressed with your ability to find the customers. If you ever want off this benighted planet we could use your talents."

"Thank you, Mr. Saulotte," Byerly responded, with a tone in which Ivan could hear a quiet bristle, "But this benighted planet *is* my home, and my job, such as it is, may help to make it a better place."

The other two were even verging on sociable, and they had set up one of handsets with small speakers to provide a continuous stream of pleasant instrumental music. Ivan spared a thought for Martial, still absent in the hospital, and felt a bit of remorse for his broken jaw - though still painfully proud that Byerly had inflicted it.

“By...?

“Hm?"

"That concussion... how did you come by that?”

"Oh, that.” He waved his hand negligently, as though concussions were a dime a dozen and barely worth noticing. “When Saulotte and his first potential buyer had their falling out. Completely incidental. You know how Vors can be in their cups. During that belligerent phase things get broken, heads not the least of them.”

“My mother thought it had something to do with your cover being compromised.”

Byerly blinked. “I guess I wasn't clear when I first contacted her. Things were a little fuzzy for me at the time. The two things happened congruently, but they weren't actually directly connected."

"She wanted me to stay away from you in case I was making it difficult for you. And I thought that was why you said I shouldn't visit you."

"I said what?"

"'Not a good time' you said."

"Oh, well I didn't want you caught up in all *this*. I was afraid something like this would happen."

"You *have* said before that I make things harder for you."

Byerly studied him for a moment. "I'm sorry I said that." He looked down, toyed with his pastry. "It's true, but I wish I hadn't said it. You're worth it. I do like my job, but last night... I realized. I'd rather have you."

Ivan's ears burned and his eyes dropped, but he couldn't help but smile, and when he looked back Byerly was smiling at him.

Something was beeping. Dolin set down his handset and turned his head this way and that, then went to a panel box on the wall. After scrabbling at the tiny metal loop that was the handle he got it to pop up and got his finger through it and pulled the box open.

"It's a door alarm!" he called out.

Saulotte bounced out of his chair and was aiming the remote at Ivan. "What is this, Vorrutyer? Who's followed you here?"

"I don't know what it is. Maybe it's just a random break in? It does happen, sometimes, you know."

"Don't jerk me around, Vorrutyer!"

Fire was shredding Ivan's every nerve ending, he was screaming and screaming, the world was spinning, his throat was raw. Wait. He should stop now. It was over. A vast wasteland stretched out before his eyes, something huge tumbled and resolved into a bit of fluff rolling slowly in some errant breeze, great grooves like canals extending into the distance snapped into focus as the grain of the floorboards. People were trampling all around him, rushing this way and that, leaping over him. He curled up tight to avoid being stepped on, and whimpered, then a hand was gripping his shoulder and Miles was there, telling him it was all over.

* * *

The ImpSec strike force was nominally under the command of a young Captain named Pappaconstantine, though he was taking orders, with no little awe, not to mention some small confusion as to how this situation had come about, from Lord Auditor Vorkosigan. The team had immobilized two armed men with ruthless efficiency before they turned to Lord Vorrutyer, who was still attempting to smash a third man's head in against the wooden floor. Even then they held off for a moment, observing, but their jobs demanded that they interrupt before the potential prisoner and informant was wholly dead, so, with reluctance, Captain Pappaconstantine stepped forward and grasped Lord Vorrutyer's shoulder.

"Sir! Leave off, sir! We'll take it from here."

Vorrutyer froze. The other man, who they would soon know as Saulotte, was still conscious, and a flick of his eyes showed that he fully understood the nerve disruptor that the Captain pressed to his temple. Vorrutyer sat back, straddling Saulotte's stomach and making no effort to lift his weight off it.

"The remote," Vorrutyer said.

"Sir?"

"There's a remote for a shock collar lying around on the floor here, somewhere, Captain. We need to find it and not step on it or trigger it accidentally. The collar is around the neck of Lord Ivan Vorpatril."

Vorpatril was slowly sitting up, now, with help from Lord Vorkosigan, and he was ash-pale, sweaty, and shaking like a man in drug withdrawals.

A quick search turned it up, and one of the men who had been raised on a farm soon had the collar disabled and removed. Vorpatril was administered synergine by a medic who had followed the team in, then moved to a cot in the corner where he could lie quietly for a few minutes while the suspects were removed from the scene. Lord Vorrutyer sat by the cot with a hand on Lord Vorpatril's shoulder until the team was ready to move them out, and Lord Vorkosigan stood by, fidgeting and beaming at his cousin and his cousin's friend.

* * *

Epilogue: In which Byerly makes egg toast.

The doctor who had checked Ivan out at the emergency room had decided there was very little they could do for him - "Really all he needs now is rest," - so Miles had asked around for a lift for Byerly and Ivan, and a dark-haired young Captain had jumped at the chance to offer.

"Who's he?" Ivan whispered in the back of the groundcar as the Captain drove them to the building Byerly lived in.

"Captain Pappaconstantine. He led the ImpSec strike force that saved us."

"What was that name again?"

"Oh really, Ivan."

"He likes you. Why's he like you so well?"

"Ivan."

"He does, I can tell. Why?"

Byerly turned away and gazed out of the window of the groundcar with a slight smile. "Maybe because he witnessed me beating Saulotte's head in. These ImpSec men go for that sort of thing I understand. Ivan?" He turned back to Ivan and looked very squarely at him. "That note to Miles. That was very clever, I'm impressed."

Ivan was too worn out to even fidget, so he just said, "Thanks," but he was smiling and blushing as he leaned back into the seat and closed his eyes. It might mean trouble for him if it got out that he'd come up with something clever, but he liked the feeling of By being proud of him.

As soon they entered the apartment By pushed Ivan forceably down on the couch. Not difficult as Ivan had all the strength of a two-day old kitten, and, though he didn't want to admit it, was quite grateful to be made to rest.

"Stay right there while I cook you something."

"Didn't we just have breakfast?"

"We were at the hospital for hours."

"Don't go to any bother. I'm not really hungry."

"You're tanked on synergine at the moment - as soon as that drops off you'll be falling dead asleep and you'll wake up starving. You should try to have a little bite before you crash to keep your strength up. Doctor's orders."

"Really?"

"No, the doctor didn't think to say it, but I'm conversant with this effect, so take my word for it."

"Okay." Ivan gave in with a smile and Byerly gave him a quick peck. It felt really nice to have Byerly fuss over him, he wasn't complaining, only making a token resistance in order to be polite. He dozed off for a few minutes, listening to the bustle in the kitchen, and was awakened by Byerly setting plates on the coffee table. Ivan pushed upright and Byerly seated himself on the couch beside him when he returned with the platter of egg toast and a variety of condiments to top them with. "This is marvelous," Ivan mumbled around his second bite.

"I'm very handy in the kitchen. I'd make a good hypothetical wife."

Ivan swallowed hard in surprise, washed the lump down with some tea and finally said, "It was Miles's idea. *He* brought up this androgenesis thing." At Byerly's look Ivan offered, "Lets two guys have kids."

"I know what the word means, but..."

"Yeah, they've figured it out, now. How to do it."

Now Byerly was beginning to look slightly alarmed. "Miles thinks you and I should have *kids*?"

"No, no, that's not what he said, really." _Backpeddle! Quick!_ "He said the option was there if we should ever want to. I'm not at all sure *I'm* ready for that. But his point was that with procreation not a barrier he thought the possibility might be there of making a legal case for marriage."

Byerly's eyes widened. "So... you weren't joking."

"No, I - I don't know if it would be possible, really, any time soon, and I wouldn't want to rush you into anything, and I just said it to - yeah, I was joking. I guess. And, um. Yeah."

The expression on Byerly's face was going from outright stunned to something more like perplexed, and continued metamorphosing to a look that was still somewhat confused but pleased and almost bashful. Ivan didn't think he'd ever seen Byerly look quite like that, and he'd seen the man in quite a variety of moods in the past few months. By's hand moved over his own. "You realize it would cause tremendous trouble. Incalculable. I don't know what your cousin is trying to do."

"I think it has to do with his never ending campaign to drag Barrayar into the same century with the rest of the galaxy."

"Which is why it'll make us a target for every nutcase who doesn't want that to happen."

"Yeah. I hate the idea for that. I'd rather have my privacy and a nice boring life. But you like danger, and you said you'd like to work to make this planet a better place."

"You really want to do this?"

"No. Yes. I want to be with you."

Byerly smiled and offered him another egg toast. "Eat up. Sleep. We'll discuss it in the morning."


End file.
